


Daedalus

by dulceata2



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:09:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dulceata2/pseuds/dulceata2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My son, not for mortals to desire the fire ringed chariot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daedalus

He laughed as he shouted, the tall-limbed figure at the edge of the window. Throwing his head back as he looked up at the sky, leaning out far too recklessly.  
Oh youth, how foolishly brave you are in the prime of your years.  
You think the world cradles you, that nothing can harm your strength. Even as you look upon my aged and crumpled form it does not strike your thoughts that one day you shall be as I.  
You shout to the world in loud tones, a challenge to all. My whispering does not reach your ears. Or rather you will not listen to my words of caution and restraint.  
Carefully I pour the wax on each joint. Making our escape plans while you dream only of freedom. Not for you the details of how we shall go. No, you do not see the rocks below, only the sky.  
And I, I cannot force you down from the clouds. Although I may warn you of the dangers, even my aged heart yearns for such thoughts. And so my words are not backed with intent.  
We must wait, I tell you, for each feather to be placed and molded together. But you are all impatient energy.  
Father, you call me, yet my caution is the iron on your limbs. I see the desire in your eyes as you whisper promises to the sky.  
And finally, finally the day arrives when all is finished.  
Icarus, I warn, we must wait for the sun too take it's nightly journey.  
But it is too late and you have grasped the false wings and thrown yourself out of the window. I must follow the young, as is always the case.  
I catch the wind, trying to reach him. But he is flying higher and higher, straining to reach new heights.  
Icarus remember, I shout, though you have the wings of a young hawk, keep in mind that they are made from chicken feathers.  
You ignore me. The foolish tones of an old man are beneath your notice. Now, you think, you can reach the sun.  
I look up at your wings. Watching them as one by one the feathers begin to fall. And you, my only son, you strain to continue higher until it is only your arms reaching out.  
You flew too close to the sun, I mourn as I drop down to close the eyes of the broken body on the rocks.  
My son, I pray Zeus will make you a hawk in the next life.


End file.
